That night I was awoken by the sound of quiet sobs. I knew the sound well but every time I would check on my husband he would pretend to be asleep until I left.
Climbing out of bed I felt the cold hardwood floors beneath my feet. Who ever could invent indoor heating that would heat an entire home or keep hardwood floors from freezing a victim's feet off would make a fortune.
Reaching out I took the shawl Edmund had given me as a first anniversary present and wrapped it around me to ward off the chill.
I knew the way to Edmund's bedroom by touch and steps alone. I had visited it so often I no longer needed a candle or artificial light to guide me.
Pushing open the door I could hear the faint sound of Edmund's final sob. The moment I stepped foot inside he was silent.
He wasn't going to get away from me this easily.
Though he pretended to be asleep I walked to his bed. He ignored me as I first sat down then laid down behind him. Using my free arm I wrapped it around his chest, being careful to avoid the wound.
"Don't shut me out," I whispered to him.
My only response was his hand moving to tightly grasp mine.
The next few days were like the others. A routine that could not be escaped.
Edmund went to his work as a detective and I went to church to help and pray for my lost husband and daughter.
On the way home I found Mister Drake, Edmund's right hand man.
"Mister Drake!" I called out to him.
The tall sandy haired man turned to face me. Like Edmund looked as if he had gone through a battle.
"Goodness!" I exclaimed before I could stop myself.
Mister Drake managed a small smile through his bruised cheek and split lip.
"I'll live," he promised me as he removed his hat. "It's not as bad as it looks, I promise you. What can I do for you Missus Reid?"
I felt bad about going behind my husband's back and questioning his friend but I felt as if I had no choice.
"Has my husband spoken to you about anything upsetting him?" I asked.
"Other than his injury, no." Mister Drake gave me a smile to try to put me at ease. "If you heard loud cursing followed by the ringing of many church bells that was him."
"I know that story. What I meant was he's not talking to me about how he feels. He's hurting terribly but won't tell me what's wrong or how I could help him."
Mister Drake looked sympathetic, "Missus Reid, it's girls and women who can talk about their feelings, not men. It's the British stiff upper lip for men, if we are upset we have to bite our lips to keep it from showing."
"If you men keep on biting your lips you will bite them off!"
Mister Drake gave a small nod. "I imagine we would, but if Mister Reid isn't willing to talk to you about such things he would not confess them to me. But, if he does talk I will let you know."
"Thank you Mister Drake."
Placing his hat on his head Mister Drake gave me a small smile, "Good day Missus Reid."
"Good day, Mister Drake."
Armed with somewhat of a new knowledge of the attitude of men I returned home. I could hear the rustle of my stiffly starched skirts as I entered my home.
Though Edmund was not home I thought about making him his favorite supper to try to cheer him up for tonight.
First though, first I needed to change. Mama would have a fit if she could see me wearing one of my nice dresses while making supper.
Hurrying up the stairs I mentally prepared what I was going to make and how much of it. Edmund could be a healthy eater and I was sure he was going to be hungry after a long day at work.
Changing into a pink blouse and faded brown skirt I went down the steps and into the kitchen. Grabbing the apron off the hook I set about my work.
Half way through supper preparations bouts of sadness began to stab at me. I missed the times when Edmund would stay in the kitchen doorway and I would try to entice him inside. He would almost always refuse until I bribed him with one of Mama's cookies. As a joke he would sometimes pretend to hurry out of the kitchen.
Then there was Abigail... She often tried to sneak her way into the kitchen to see what I was preparing and perhaps to steal some desert.
"She got in again! We will have to find child sized locks for the kitchen!" Edmund joked as he pretended to chase his dark haired daughter down. His strong arms wrapped around her small body as she erupted into giggles. "Got you!"
"You're only encouraging her," Emily laughed.
"What should we do with her now that I've caught her Emily? When my father caught me in mother's kitchen he always joked they could have me for dinner."
"We can't do that! She's too small!" Emily shot back.
"I suppose you are right." Laughing Edmund quickly kissed his daughter's cheek. "I love you, Abigail."
"Love you too Papa," Abigail replied.
"A thousand pardons, dear Emily, for allowing this little girl for entering your territory."
For how long I was distracted thinking about the past I do not know. I was brought back to the present by the smell of something burning.
Uh-oh.
Supper was burning!
"Emily?" Edmund's quiet voice said.
Grabbing the potholders I hurriedly pulled supper from the oven.
"I got distracted," I confessed as we looked at the very crispy edges of what was to be supper.
"It doesn't look bad," Edmund said.
I sighed as tears formed in my eyes, "I wanted it to be a surprise!"
"It is!" Edmund pulled me towards him, "Emily, let's eat and we can talk after supper."
Supper for us was painfully silent. Normally we'd chat about how our days went but tonight we both knew what had to be discussed.
"Edmund," I said to break the silence.
"Yes?"
"What happened that day? The day Abigail died and you were so badly hurt?"
Edmund shook his head, "It's nothing. I've forgotten what happened."
"I remember that day. I remember how badly hurt you were, and how you kept your head in my lap as you cried."
He looked away from me, "I don't want to discuss that."
"Don't shut me out, Edmund."
